


Super Bowl Sunday

by TonyStarks_Girl



Category: Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: 2015 - Freeform, F/M, He's such a fanboy, New England Patriots, Pregnancy, Seattle Seahawks, Super Bowl, Super Bowl XLIX, excited Chris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:38:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonyStarks_Girl/pseuds/TonyStarks_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wake up dreading the results of the big game that day, but in the end, it all works out just fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Super Bowl Sunday

You woke up with an instant feeling of dread in your heart. You whined and pouted, covering your entire body with the comforter, but it was already too late.  
  
 _"IT'S SUPER BOWL SUNDAY, BABE! GET UP!"_  
  
You groaned and pulled the comforter from your head, pouting at your excited husband. He jumped on the bed on top of you with that excited smile, reminding you of a golden retriever puppy. You wiped your eyes and smiled at your husband.  
  
"Yes, yes it is."  
  
"Which means you gotta get the hell up and we gotta go! Plane leaves soon and it's a five hour flight!"  
  
"Believe me honey,  _I know._ "  
  
"Aren't you excited?! Patriots are playing!"  
  
"I'd be more excited if I wasn't being crushed by Captain America." You wheezed.  
  
Chris quickly rolled over and laid next to you, looking at you with a smile, "Sorry. I'm a fuckin' meatball."  
  
"With left boob syndrome. But that's okay, because you're  _my_  fuckin' meatball with left boob syndrome." You said with a smile, giving your husband a quick smooch before getting out of bed and heading for the closet.  
  
"Wear your jersey!"  
  
"I am, dammit!"  
  
You closed the closet door behind you and walked further in, the light already turned on. You loved your walk-in closet, you truly did. You slipped on a white tank top and then your jersey, the number twelve proudly standing out. You tied your hair up into a high ponytail and coerced it into your Super Bowl XLIX hat Chris bought for you to wear for the day. You shoved on a dark pair of torn skinny jeans and converse, grabbing your makeup bag (which also had your nail stuff) and heading out of the closet. Chris wolf-whistled and watched as you went to go brush your teeth.  
  
"We're gonna win tonight, babe!"  
  
You chuckled at how excited he was for the game. You were too, as you were also a football fan, but your excitement could never beat your husband's,  _especially_ with the bet he had going on with Chris Pratt, who you were positive was going to have to go to Christopher's Haven as Star-Lord.  
  
"You know, even though we're going to win-"  
  
"Damn right we're gonna win!"  
  
"You still have to go to the Seattle Children's Hospital." You finished.  
  
"Of course I am! I can't just let down those kids." He admitted.  
  
You smiled at your husband. No matter how much his pride for the Patriots was, he was still a good man at heart. A true Steve Rogers, if you did say so yourself.  
  
You grabbed your bag and purse, slipping your phone into your back pocket and making sure you had the charger before leading the way out, your giant-puppy-husband following behind happily.  
  
xXx  
  
"Babe. Even if we don't win, I just want you to know that I am banging you tonight." Chris muttered as you sat in the stands, waiting for the game to start.  
  
You laughed out loud and just shook your head. You knew that was an absolute  _lie_. During football season, your sex life relied on those damn Patriots. If they won, you were taken care of. If they lost, you were on your own. If they won the Super Bowl, you'd be taken care of  _real good_ , and if they lost...  
  
You had withdrawals.  
  
You were decked out head to toe with Patriots gear. Your nails were Patriots, your purse was Patriots, hell, even your underclothes were Patriots. Your makeup was his favorite part though; it was like eyes were  _meant_  to have the Patriots designed decorated around them.  
  
"Evans!"  
  
You both turned to see none other than the man himself, Chris Pratt. You both smiled and stood, greeting him and Anna and giving hugs.  
  
"Good luck, Evans, you'll need it. That is, unless Tom Brady has a needle on him and deflates the ball." Chris teased playfully.  
  
Your husband smirked and laughed, "Oh that's how it is? Alright then, Seachicken, we'll see how this ends. May the best team win. That's the Patriots, by the way."  
  
You and Anna just shared smiles, enjoying how silly your respective husbands were being. You all grouped together for a quick picture before sitting down, your seats coincidentally close to one another.  
  
A bit of time passed before Chris' brother arrived on the scene, and when he did you jumped up and gave him the biggest hug of your life. He laughed and hugged you back, kissing your cheek and whispering into your ear.  
  
 _"Did you tell him yet?"  
_  
You shook your head,  _"Not yet. If we lose, I need something to cheer him up."  
_  
He nodded and hugged his brother, who was even more pumped now that the game was about to start any minute. You grinned and sat down, letting your husband show just how excited the both of you were throughout the entire game.  
  
xXx  
  
"Come on now!" Chris shouted, "Nothing stupid, nothing stupid!"  
  
The game was literally almost over. Patriots were winning by four points, but you knew that if the Seahawks got a touchdown, you were doomed.  
  
You  _really_  needed your team to pull through for this night to be the best one ever.  
  
A bead of sweat trickled down your face as the whistle blew. So close, so close...  
  
 _"YES!"_ Chris shouted, jumping up and down as the seconds on the clock stopped at zero.  
  
You jumped up and screamed, not noticing Scott recording you both. Your husband took you into his arms and gave you the biggest kiss ever, twirling you around before settling you down. Your grin was as big as his, though for different reasons. You took off his cap and threaded your fingers through his dark hair.  
  
"Chris!" You said loudly.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'm pregnant!"  
  
He suddenly stopped jumping, his eyes wide.  _"Are you serious?!"_  
  
You nodded vigorously and he lifted you up onto his shoulders, shouting as loud as he possibly could.  
  
 _"This is the best Super Bowl Sunday ever!"_


End file.
